13 Years
by FeanorKelsick
Summary: The adventures of Oleander, FHTNG, and various other dwellers of Foenum during the thirteen years prior to the Predators' return to Foenum.


Despite the warmth that permeated the Sacred Grove in all seasons, the air of the spacious stone chamber was cool. A ray of sunshine had somehow found its way through the arching canopy of trees and through the open window to form a dappled pool in the corner, illuminating swarms of tiny dancing dust motes

The High Priestess approached the plinth in the center of the room with nervous hesitation. Compared to the graceful, artistic flourish that defined most of the structures of the Grove, the temple was plain and humble, harsh even. That was only right, though. The temple was a place of the most solemn importance, and that was reflected in the room's bare practicality. One did not come here seeking comforts of a physical nature; they would be as out of place here as the frivolous decorations her kind so loved. Not Azalea though. The simple stone chamber had come to hold a charm for her that no splendor of Unicorn creation could hope to match.

 _And yet you delay._ She could not deny the thought. The greater part of the last hour had been spent pacing the temple; making her oblations, refilling the water basins, lighting incense to clear her mind, and finding any other excuse she could to delay. It was foolish, really. Childish actions more befitting an acolyte than a High Priestess. She would have to make penance for it. But later. Now she had work to attend.

Taking a slow, calming breath, she knelt upon the cold stone before the plinth reverently, lighting each of the two candles that were the stand's only adornments with a touch of her horn. Warm light spread from each, expanding until the room was gently lit in its welcoming radiance.

Azalea hardly noticed, her eyes were already closed, her lips moving silently as she murmured the traditional prayers of thanks and supplication practiced a thousand times.

She lay down to let her body relax, settling into the most comfortable position the stones allowed for.

In motionless silence, the minutes passed. The unyielding stone was cold beneath her, and the sunlight through her closed eyelids nagged at the corner of her vision, but Azalea payed it no mind. She had come here to seek wisdom; the clarity of mind to act with grace and guidance of the Light in what was to come.

Despite her years of training and practice, her mind was a whirl. Countless times over the years she had come here to reflect and ponder the mysteries of the Light, and always it had provided her with wisdom. And yet now, when she needed it most, its peace eluded morning's events returning to her in fragmented images: The Sacred Grove, awash in sunlight, blossoms, and morning dew. The Order of the Horn, arrayed in ranks of shimmering white. Then, a shadow. A spot of _wrong_ , a stain in their midst...

 _Oh, Oly! What have you done?_ She dared not contemplate the full implication of her student's disfigurement; not without the grace of the Light to steady and guide her. Dark Magic! She had shouted the words herself, though she could hardly believe the truth of them, even displayed before her eyes.

Oly had always been stubborn, rebellious, but this... What had she been thinking, entering the Sacred Grove in that state? But the answer was obvious. She was frightened, alone, so she had sought the one Unicorn she trusted implicitly... And found only condemnation.

Had she only come _alone_ though, perhaps...! Perhaps what? She could have hidden it? Lied? They would have found out soon enough anyway, and she would have been forced to pass judgement anyway. _I have done that too_. Though the look on Oly's face had all but broken her heart, she had turned her back with the rest, as much to hide the tears that threatened as anything else. _Coward._

When she had recovered enough to turn back, Oly was gone. The rest of the morning passed in a daze, and it was all Azalea could do to keep her mask of composure until her duties were complete, and she could rush here.

 _Oly, what am I to DO with you?_ That was the answer she sought. Yet now that she was here, the High Priestess found that she feared the answers she might recieve. With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts away, seeking the place of silence and clarity. The thoughts rose again like angry breakers, snippets of the morning's drama, black fur in the midst of a white sea. The outraged expressions of the Elders. Azalea did not tend to them, letting the thoughts and images crash and recede unheeded, waves on a beach. Slowly the inner tumult quieted, and with it, the world around her began to take on a sharp immediacy.

Each heartbeat became pronounced, slowing to match the rise and fall of her chest. Outside, the twittering of birds and the faint sounds of laughter carried on the wind, bearing with it the sweet fragrance of flowers and the wholesome scents of earth and piney forest. Somewhere a squirrel scrabbled through the branches of a tree, a thump as its prize nut hit the forest floor far below. Beneath her, the stone had begun to yield to her warmth, and the multitudes of tiny cracks and imperfections in the stone stood out so clear against the weight of her body that she could almost see them. In the shadowy recesses of the domed roof, a leaf became dislodged with a rustle to drift silently past, and she savored the tiny breeze that it created as it passed her cheek. All this she observed in crystalline clarity in the space of a single, deep inhale. When the leaf touched the ground - quiet as a butterfly's sigh - Azalea exhaled, and let go.

The stones beneath her became indistinguishable from her own form, the call of the birds, the scents of the Grove, the touch of the breeze, all merged and dissolved into a warm, humming radiance that reached out to encompass the Sacred Grove. Her pulse became the pulse of sap within the ancient oaks and proud cedars, the trickle of the streams which nourished the tall grasses and delicate flowers sprouting from the rich earth. Squirrels and birds scampered through her branches, a thousand leafy limbs raised in time-defying devotion. Far below, her roots drank deep of cool waters in a subterranean world where blind things crawled and scampered, tickling her shoots with probing antennae. A realm dark and alien, yet intimately connected with the world above, humming to the same ageless song, and Unicorn kind just another tiny, interwoven piece in the whole.

The knowledge brought a sense of deep reassurance. The Light provided for all of its children, it flowed through everything, as irrefutable as time. You could as well fight it as the rising of the sun. Surrender was the only peace.

Somewhere in the forest, a small furry creature let go its last breath and gave up its body to the cycle of life, as countless thousands had before, and would to come. She felt its passing with acute certainty, but there was no sorrow. The worries and struggles of the mortal had no place here, the Light was beyond such cares, and so too must she be.

A gentle breeze rustled her branches, and she drifted with the falling petals to the earth below, still warm with the memory of many gathered hooves, stones ringing with the echo of voices raised in unity. _It was here._ The thought pierced her trance unbidden.

 _A gathering of stately Unicorn, arrayed in ranks of shimmering white before her, attention riveted on her words as she expounded the truths of the Light. And then, from the corner of her eye, a shadow. A stain of dark ink to mar the perfect white of the holy gathering..._

Suddenly she was back in the temple, back in her own body, staring at the flickering light of a candle, burned almost to the base. Azalea blinked, glancing about the room. The pool of light in the corner had stretched across the floor to climb the wall. The afternoon was wearing on. She would be expected for evening prayer soon... and other duties.

 _Light, what would you have me do?_ Her student had defied the most sacred laws of the Order, betrayed her trust and tainted the sanctity of the Sacred Grove itself! Azalea would have to make judgement before the sun rose again. The laws were clear, and the Elders were outraged, they would insist. But could she find the strength to do what they would demand of her? What she must? Azalea struggled to recall the grace of the Light, which had seen a thousand thousand children born into this world, and witnessed each snuffed out, as certain as the dawn. Instead she could only see the look on Oly's face as Azalea had spoken her denouncement and turned away.

An outcast. That is the life she would face here. For who could look upon that tainted coat and not shiver? Shunned by her own race, and forbidden from the holy places. Forbidden from the study of magic in any form. Light! Magic was the child's LIFE, would exile truly be so cruel?

 _Yes._ The answer came without hesitation. The Woodland was more than just a home to the Unicorn. It had sheltered them since the dawn of days, protected them in the age of Predators, guided them when they strayed, and taught them in the ways of the light. It was a second mother to all of them, and Oly was still a child, however she might deny it.

 _A child..._ The thought stung, despite its familiarity. It was something she would never have, the Light had shown her that much long ago. She had traded the life in her womb for the life in all things. She would never mother a foal, but she had gained all of the Woodland as her children. It was a sacrifice she made gladly, and yet... She felt a sting in her eyes and wiped it angrily away.

Damn her duties. Damn the Elders. She was not ready. She would not face them like this, not without her answer.

"You are troubled." The voice rose from the altar before her in musical tones, like the chiming of distant bells, the soughing of a warm wind.

Azalea's breath caught in her throat, "Exalted Mother!" It came out hoarse and undignified, and she had to clear her throat, "I...I am honored!"

To be contacted directly by the Mother was a blessing rare and precious beyond value. Time did not have the same meaning for such a lofty being, Azalea had been taught. It was a blessing recieved only a precious few times in the lifespan of a High Priestess, and for some, a blessing never recieved at all. It had been years since that voice had blessed Azalea's ears, and she found herself fumbling like a foal.

"The Light provides for its own, child. Tell me, what is it that troubles you so?" Soft and soothing as a summer rain.

She struggled to her knees awkwardly, legs numb beneath her, to touch her forehead to the floor. "You are too kind, Mother. I...I am not worthy-!"

"Azalea," the voice interupted with gentle amusement, only the faintest reprimand detectable under its warm benevolence. "Recall yourself."

It was right. Azalea was the High Priestess of the Order of the Horn, and again she found herself behaving like a frightened acolyte. Azalea drew herself up, raising her eyes to gaze upon the great white tome from which the voice originated, ornately bound in silver carvings and inlaid with magnificent inscriptions. She wiped the remaining moisture from her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice came firm and clear, though still tinged with the proper respect and humility.

"Forgive me, Mother, it has been a trying day. I'm afraid I have allowed my emotions the better of me."

The voice was a warm fountain of understanding, "We all stray from time to time, child, else we would not need the Light to guide our path."

Azalea let the words wash over her, bolstering her with their support, reminding her of her strength. "I am in need of its guidance now as never before." She had to pause, swallow, "One of our own has strayed - most grievously, I fear - and the blame falls on me." She had to fight the urge not to hang her head in shame at the admission.

"You speak of your student." It was not a question.

Azalea nodded, then, unsure if that was observed, "Yes. Oleander."

The voice was reflective, "She has always been a willful child. It is the nature of the young to be rash, however, it falls to the elderly and wise to curb their wayward instincts."

Azalea winced, though there was no admonishment in the tone. "I have tried Mother! I-" She had to stop herself, she was sounding like a petulant child. She took a deep breath, "I have tried. And I have failed."

"I see." A pause. Azalea found herself waiting for the voice to speak again, to offer her wisdom, forgiveness, but there was only an expectant silence. At last she knew she could delay no longer.

"Mother, It pains me to tell you this. My faithful acolyte, our dear Oly... She has studied secret knowledge, and channelled that which is forbidden!"

It took all of Azalea's discipline not to squirm in the silence that followed. Finally the voice replied, "And where did she discover this, 'knowledge'? Who taught her to wield such magic?"

Azalea did not let her voice betray the weakness she felt, "I do not know, Mother."

"This will not do, Azalea, I needn't remind you of our plans for the child."

It was like a shadow had crossed over the sun. Azalea let the sting of the reprimand wash over her, refusing the urge to defend herself, to make excuses. This was the voice of the Light. It was righteousness. It was truth. So she savored the sting, let it burn in her heart that it could fuel her resolve. When she spoke, her voice was the voice of a High Priestess.

"Ofcourse not! She will follow me as High Priestess, as the Light wills. But how do I guide her? She is willful and curious to a fault, heedless of my warnings!"

"Open your eyes, child! There is a light that guides, and a light that blinds. The path she walks is your own, the answers you seek are already in your grasp."

"I have tried to lay the path, Mother! I have led the way, but how can I make her follow? She heeds my words, but she rejects them in her heart!" She fought to keep the despair from her voice.

"Azalea," The voice had grown sad, almost weary, "I do not wish to hurt you, but we can afford this no longer. So I shall speak the words that are in your heart for you. Oleander will not listen because you speak to her with the voice of a mother, and that you can never be. Not to her."

Azalea sat stunned. Perhaps she had seen it all along, but refused to acknowledge it. How many times had Oly spoken out against their rules, to question the laws of the Order? How many times had she pushed the boundaries in her magical training? Never had the High Priestess failed to reprimand her student, but had her admonishments not grown empty with time? Had she not seen the glint in those black eyes, even as her pupil pretended at understanding, agreement? Had she not allowed Oly's wayward notions to remain, pretending she could not see what her student tried to hide?

She opened her mouth, but found herself unable to speak. It was like she had been plunged into an icy water that stole her breath, leaving her chest empty and aching. She tried to fight it, but the ache only grew stronger the more she struggled. Without warning, a strangled sob escaped her throat, tearing its way free from her heart like a caged beast.

She had written it off to the innocent ignorance of youth, a phase Oleander would grow out of with time. Worse, she had allowed herself to believe that her own love and her example would steer her dear Oly to the right path. But this was not her child, and now she could see her mistake, as clear as Light.

"Do not grieve, child. Remember the Light, and be uplifted. Our path is not an easy one, it is a necessary one. You must be more, and less. A mentor, a master. But never a mother, that is a luxury not afforded to you. Only when you accept that can the pain begin to heal."

The ache in her heart boiled over, and suddenly she was weeping. Hot tears flowing freely down her cheeks. A mother's grief, a lifetime's denied loss for the child she would never have.

"I- I have been a fool, M-Mother! I have strayed from your will out of weakness for Ol- For the child, and it has brought harm to all of us! Now that I see, I only pray that I am not too late. That you can forgive me!"

"Child!" the voice echoed with tinkling merriment, like sunlight on water, "There is nothing to forgive. It is only out of love for the child that you have erred; but it is for the same reason we must act now. The Light provides for its own, but should we allow one to stray from the path, even be it for love... The Light cannot warm those who choose to stand in shadow. Such a one risks bringing the darkness upon us all!"

Azalea's eyes stung with the fervor of her emotion. Here was her answer! Here was LIGHT! Wisdom without judgement! Truth, tempered with compassion. So clear it seemed now!

"Yes Mother! I see it now!"

So painfully clear that she could not imagine how she had missed it. Innocence it might be, but the danger was no less for it. It must be stamped out. Not for her own sake, but for all of their sakes; and Oly's most of all. And it had to be done before it could take root to something more sinister. _If it has not already..._

"I knew you would, child. You are my High Priestess, my instrument of justice in this world. You must only be free of doubt, for beyond its clouding influence, we are of one mind and heart. Our bond is eternal, our pact unbreakable."

It was true. Azalea felt the strength within her, the wisdom of centuries, pulsing with the thud of her heartbeat. She was enlightened, elevated by its purity! She hardly felt the warm drops of her tears as they trickles down her cheeks. "It is my honor, Mother!"

For a long while there was silence as she basked in the radiance of Light, and gratitude for the wisdom of the Exalted Mother who had guided her forbears since the first High Priestess of the Order had sworn her vows over a thousand years before. She was not sure how long she sat there before the voice finally intruded again, gently, like the music of distant bells.

"I fear that any knowledge of this would only hurt our Order's faith in their future leader. It would be best if no one were to hear of the matter."

Azalea was silent, drawing on the strength of the Light before she replied. "I fear it is too late for that, Mother."

"Oh?" A breeze carrying the chill of night crept through the open window, and one of the candles flickered and died. "Surely you have not gone to the Order before consulting me?"

"No. Not I."

"Explain, child."

And so she did, though the recollection of the morning's events still seemed unreal even as she repeated them. The room seemed to grow chill around her, and she was keenly aware that the stump of candle before her was the only thing separating the warmth of the temple from the darkness of the night beyond.

When she reached the recall of Oleander's entrance to the sacred grove in her altered state, there was a sharp hiss, as of air being sucked in, and the second candle was extinguished, leaving the room in darkness. After-images swam in her vision as Azalea finished.

"The Elders will not be put off much longer, they will demand punishment. They..." She hesistated, "They have called for exile."

A long pause, thick with implication.

"The elders are unwise," Came the reply, tinged with a strange sadness that somehow set her hackles rising.

"I know. But how can I make them see-?"

"But not so unwise as you have been." The voice continued as though she had not spoken. "You should have come to me at once."

Azalea was stricken, mouth still hanging open mid-sentence. Never had the Mother spoken to her in such a way, the pained sadness was worse than any reprimand. All of the strength of the Light seemed to drain from her like the heat from an open cottage door in winter. "I-Mother, I have! I finished my duties as swiftly as I could-!"

"At ONCE, child. What duty could be more important than the safety of the Woodland? Of Foenum itself?"

"Of Foenum-? Mother, I do not understand!"

"No, you do not, and we have no time for explanations. This is more dire than your Elders understood. You must bring her to me, Azalea. At once!"

Azalea's mind was a whirl of confusion, "But...Our plans! She is only a child! Surely this is nothing so terrible that the grace of the Light could not heal!"

"Azalea," The voice was softer now, but tinged with a gravity that sent a cold dread through the High Priestess' body, "Oleander is in the hands of a darker power than I dared imagine. FIND her child, before it is too late!"


End file.
